


God Save Our Souls

by Anonymous_Bat



Category: Angels & Demons (2009), Da Vinci Code Series - Dan Brown
Genre: 1200's time period, AU: Crusades, Angels & Demons: AU, Body Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Slow Burn, and Patrick McKenna is still a priest, as in Robert Langdon is actually a Crusader from France, ish, just a little bit though, no leeches, terrible medical practices, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-12 13:34:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11738124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Bat/pseuds/Anonymous_Bat
Summary: When he woke up, the ringing was gone, but his whole body ached and his whole left side felt like it was burning. He relaxed into the pain, hoping that would help, but he heard shuffling to the side again and blinked open his eyes as best he could before trying to turn once more to face the sound.“No, sir, please don’t do that again, you need to lay down” a calm voice prompted him. The voice was male, but that was all he was able to focus on. A firm hand pushed him back into a laying position and he tried to open his mouth to talk back but nothing would come out. Damn his body for being so weak. He squirmed under the hand and a ripping pain seared through his left shoulder and all down his side. He gasped out in pain and the hand was removed before a cold, wet cloth was pressed into his forehead, stroking along his face as his breathing evened out.“I told you not to move” that same voice sighed out at him. Did the man have a right to be exasperated? Probably, but that didn’t stop him from grunting back in dissent. The cloth stayed on his forehead and the man moved away again, grabbing something and setting it in his lap. Was the guy sitting? He felt a hand on the back of his head, raising it a bit up.





	1. Ama Me Teneris

His ears rang high-pitched and whiney enough to wake him up. He opened his eyes and instantly regretted it. His vision blurred, doubling and tripling what he assumed was the ceiling above him, enough to make him dizzy. Each time he tried to focus, a wave of nausea crashed over him, so he gave up for a while and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. He heard shuffling to the side of him and tried to turn toward the noise, but the movement sent his stomach over the edge. He vomited off to the side and passed out again. 

When he woke up, the ringing was gone, but his whole body ached and his whole left side felt like it was burning. He relaxed into the pain, hoping that would help, but he heard shuffling to the side again and blinked open his eyes as best he could before trying to turn once more to face the sound.

“No, sir, please don’t do that again, you need to lay down” a calm voice prompted him. The voice was male, but that was all he was able to focus on. A firm hand pushed him back into a laying position and he tried to open his mouth to talk back but nothing would come out. Damn his body for being so weak. He squirmed under the hand and a ripping pain seared through his left shoulder and all down his side. He gasped out in pain and the hand was removed before a cold, wet cloth was pressed into his forehead, stroking along his face as his breathing evened out.

“I told you not to move” that same voice sighed out at him. Did the man have a right to be exasperated? Probably, but that didn’t stop him from grunting back in dissent. The cloth stayed on his forehead and the man moved away again, grabbing something and setting it in his lap. Was the guy sitting? He felt a hand on the back of his head, raising it a bit up. 

“Here” the man said, pressing a spoon of something to his lips. Despite his current weakness, he wasn’t trusting. What if the man planned to poison him? Langdon sealed his lips.

“I’m trying to help you. Let me.” His voice was exasperated, but firm. Langdon looked up at him through hooded eyes, eyeing the spoon of porridge. The man raised his eyebrows a bit with a tiny, almost unnoticeable smile.

“It’s just food. That I can promise you.” His voice was lighter, probably trying to work Langdon over. It worked. Langdon carefully opened his mouth, still eying the porridge wearily. Before swallowing it. Apparently he was hungry because his stomach growled as a plea for more. The man carried on feeding him slowly before he finished the bowl. The man set it on the ground and went away again, little clinks telling him the man was looking for something, hopefully an herb or a potion to make the pain go away.

“Well since you’re awake, do you mind if I take the liberty to ask you some questions?” The man asked, voice much kinder when he realized the wounded man was going to comply. He hummed in response, hopefully it sounded as much if a yes as he meant.

“What's your name, if you’re able to speak that is” There was a wry tone in the man’s voice. Screw this guy. 

“It’s Sir Langdon” It was weak and raspy, but good enough. The man hummed back in response before going back to whatever he was looking for.

“Well” Langdon hadn’t meant for that to sound as rude as it came out. The man stopped and turned to him with an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I-I mean well, what’s your name?” That came out more pathetic than apologetic and he winced a little at how rusty he was at meeting new people. The man still looked a bit peeved, but replied anyway.

“Signor McKenna, I’m a priest here at the church”

“Ch… urch?” Langdon looked around at that. The walls were plain, but the man-Signor McKenna’s robes were indeed that of a priest. There might have also been an obvious cross over the doorway, too. The Signor smiled at him while Langdon looked around.

“A-ha!” said McKenna and the priest walked back up to him “Now let’s sit you up. This thing right here won’t do too much, but it will numb the pain slightly.”   
Langdon gingerly sat up, weary of sparking the dull ache into full fledged pain again. McKenna tried to feed him the muddy liquid, but as soon as it touched his tongue he gagged. McKenna raised his eyebrow again

“You need to drink this”

“It’s absolutely disgusting!”

“I never said it’d taste good” Langdon looked at the bottle with resigned disdain before nodding his assent to drinking it.

“Warning: This won’t taste that great” McKenna sarcastically said before feeding it to him. It was vile. It tasted how horse stables smelled and the texture was like mud, but it was in his mouth now so he had to swallow it. The grimace that followed made the priest chuckle. McKenna moved away to place the vial back on the shelf. 

Despite the horrid thing Langdon had just put in his body, it did seem to be working already. He tested it out a little by twisting from side to side and only felt a twinge of pain. He smiled a little at that and made a move to get out of bed. Hopefully his vanguard had only waited a few days. They weren’t even near Constantinople, so they needed to make better time than he thought they were or they’d be months behind the Prussian troops, who they were meeting at the city before ransacking the holy land for some perceived glory. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand up, but his legs didn’t get the memo that he was fine now and collapsed under him. Signor McKenna rushed to his side grabbing ahold of his arms and hoisting him back onto the bed with a stunned and concerned look on his face.

“What were you thinking? You’re not well yet!” The priest exclaimed, worry evident in his tone, and Langdon winced at how loud he’d gotten, before McKenna quieted his voice down.

“You might have just torn the stitching” The priest said,his voice tight with annoyance and concern. He made a move to untie Langdon’s shirt, who pushed his hands away.

“I can get it”

“Can you?”

“I’m not helpless”

“Says the man who just collapsed under his own feet”

Langdon huffed at that and slowly started to take off his shirt, trying to be careful. So he might be a little stubborn, but he wasn’t a fool. He didn’t want to bleed out and die. Once the shirt was removed McKenna went to work. He unwrapped the bindings around Langdon’s midsection and arm. 

The cuts were gruesome; Purple, black and red raises in a clean cut seared through his arm, while white puss, green scabs, and flecks of deep purple filled in the gaping wound on his side. The cut on his arm didn’t look to bad, but the one his side- he had to hold in the nausea. He could remember the fight and how it started. Their company had needed a place to rest for the night and the local innkeeper refused. He remembered that one of his men drew their sword first and the slaughtering began until a group of bandits joined in on the fun. But for the life of him, he couldn't remember how he got these wounds.

McKenna sighed at the cut down his midsection, it had reopened and deep red, almost black blood was welling up from the center. “Hold this to it and don’t let up on the pressure, it will keep it from bleeding out” and he went over to the shelves on the opposite ends wall and grabbed a bowl the was covered with a cloth. The pain wasn’t fully back, and Langdon thanked god that the disgusting medicine had actually helped. The blood was coming up faster than it should’ve and leaked onto his hands past the bandages and cloth the priest had told him to hold over it. Signor McKenna rushed back to the bedside with the open container and put handfuls of a thick, grainy, sand like paste directly onto the wound. He gasped out loud at that.

“Fuck!”

“Sorry, this will only hurt for a little while it stops the blood from spilling out too much” but Langdon was already light-headed. Both from the loss of blood and pain resurfacing. McKenna started wrapping up his midsection again tenderly and laid him back down on the bloodstained sheets. Laying down helped a little but he still felt like he was on the brink of passing out any second. McKenna laid the damp cloth back on his face and started murmuring out tiny phrases of comfort.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. God is watching over us” and such. Langdon wasn’t too sure what he was saying half the time, but it was calming. He slowly fell into oblivion with the cloth caressing his face. 

 

Langdon was tired of passing out. The next time he woke up, it was quiet except for soft breaths coming from right beside him. He opened his eyes and glanced to the side instead of turning. He learned that lesson enough and wasn’t going to risk opening the fresh bandages. It was, of course, the priest from earlier, dozing in a chair next to his bed. His mouth was hanging open slightly and his hair was more than a little out of place, but weirdly enough it was...almost cute. But you didn’t use words like that to describe boys, especially a priest. It seemed fitting though. He turned his eyes to the ceiling again and fell asleep to the sound of McKenna’s even breathing and the moonlight shining through a small window above them.


	2. Ama Me Langourem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Langdon woke to a crash that jolted him out of bed. A sharp pain shot through his body and made him lie down again, still tense. Too many years in the military have trained him to always be on guard. He was lying awkwardly, half up and his face squashed into his neck and staring startled at Signor McKenna, who was on the floor with broken shards of what was probably a bowl on the floor. There was a brief moment of silence where McKenna’s face slowly turned red and Langdon’s harsh breaths filled the room.  
> “Holy Mother of-”  
> “-I am so sorry-”  
> “-scared the living daylights-”  
> “-didn’t mean to wake you up” McKenna picked up the pieces carefully and called out a  
> “Be right back!” to a bewildered Langdon as he ran out of the room holding the shards gingerly in his hands

Langdon woke to a crash that jolted him out of bed. A sharp pain shot through his body and made him lie down again, still tense. Too many years in the military have trained him to always be on guard. He was lying awkwardly, half up and his face squashed into his neck and staring startled at Signor McKenna, who was on the floor with broken shards of what was probably a bowl on the floor. There was a brief moment of silence where McKenna’s face slowly turned red and Langdon’s harsh breaths filled the room.  
“Holy Mother of-”  
“-I am so sorry-”  
“-scared the living daylights-”  
“-didn’t mean to wake you up” McKenna picked up the pieces carefully and called out a  
“Be right back!” to a bewildered Langdon as he ran out of the room holding the shards gingerly in his hands. Langdon slowly slumped back down on to the bed, trying to not spike another wave of pain, but still getting them to burn nonetheless. He closed his eyes and tried to slow down his breathing and heart. At least his head was clear, now, even if he lost a few more years of his life to that scare.  
A couple minutes passed before the priest came back into the room carrying another bowl of water and a thicker cloth, walking much more carefully this time, glancing down at the ground every other blink. His hands were bandaged but blood was staining the edges.  
“Are you okay?” Langdon asked. He didn’t really know why. It was probably out of some courtesy because the priest had already done so much for him.  
“ So, you do have some of that knightly chivalry. I’m fine.” His tone was sardonic and it irritated Langdon. Was his voice always so even-keeled, or was that just for him? He reigned in his annoyance this time, more in control of how he presented himself than the last time they’d spoke. McKenna put down the cloth on the floor to soak up the water.  
“Well, that’s good”  
“Yes, indeed” he smirked a little at that before sitting down in the chair next to the bed. Langdon let out a breath and winced. McKenna’s smirk changed into a concerned face and motioned with his hands to let him see his side. Langdon went to turn, but the priest stopped him with a gentle grab of his shoulder and back, moving him slowly towards him.  
“You really need to be careful. Reopening the wound could cause another infection to happen. While draining you of blood isn’t a bad thing, it wouldn’t be wise to do it again so soon after.” Mckenna said and, glancing at Langdon’s face, continued  
“I had to 2 nights ago. Your fever was trying to break and you were moaning out in pain, don’t look so stricken” the priest sighed out. Once Mckenna had Langdon sitting up right on the bed to where he was in reach of the cut on his side, he started unwrapping the bandages once more.  
Langdon gulped at the sight but held back anything else. It looked awful still, but their seemed to be significantly less puss than before and the blood welled up much slower this time around. He caught a slight proud smile on McKenna’s face.  
“It looks better than before.” He said, painfully aware of how obvious that statement was. McKenna’s smile grew into a slight smirk at that, looking up at Langdon under his eyelashes.  
“I’d hope so, sir” There was a playfulness to his tone that time, even if his voice was still relatively monotone. There was a slight pause in the air where they were just looking at each other before McKenna moved away to re-wrap the bandages with a thinner cloth than before.  
“We’re going to need to cauterize it” the priest said, holding himself more tense than before.  
“Well, I’d assume so, seeing as how it’s still bleeding after- uh- after… How many days have I been here?” Langdon ended on a question because he seriously didn’t know. Time seemed to disappear within these walls and while in pain.   
“It’s been a little less than a week”  
“ A week” A week! The men must hate him for making them wait so long. Where were they even staying, why hasn’t he seen any of them? His mind stopped for a second at that.  
“The men I was with, they left.” It was a statement.  
“Yes.” At least McKenna looked down for him.  
“When?”  
“After your second day in. They didn’t think you’d make it with how bloodied up you were when you were brought here.” Langdon sighed at the news and tried to slump, only for his side to sting him in retaliation. Of course they left. It was a quest for glory, to save the holy land. Of course they left him here. He looked up to the ceiling, closing his eyes for a brief second to get control of his thoughts. He felt a hand on his forearm and looked over to see McKenna with a sympathetic expression. He wanted to rebuff the sympathy, but he was drained and sympathy fit McKenna better than a smirk.  
“If it’s any consolation, they left your sword.” Langdon smiled a bit and huffed a laugh at that. They took is horse and his pride, but hey, he got the sword.  
“That’s great” He replied. McKenna smiled wryly at that before he got up.  
“It’ll be a moment, so you can lay down. Please be careful and don’t touch it” and out the door he went.  
Langdon stayed sitting up for a moment, enjoying the quiet. The sun was shining through the tiny open window. It was funny how the night made things look and feel much bigger than they truly were. He decided against laying down at all. More because he was slightly terrified to move and reignite the pain, but also because he wasn’t quite sure that he could resist touching it otherwise. The room was barren enough it looked like it could have once been used for storage, but he guessed anything could be repurposed if the need for it arose. How did a priest become a pseudo-physician anyways? Unless that was what they did here at this church. Langdon was mature enough to recognize he didn’t know much of anything outside of France and the books he’d read, even if he was loathe to be reminded of it.  
Italy wasn’t that much different. There had been too many hills and plains like there were in the south of France. The weather wasn’t much different either, though he supposed that was only because they’d left in the spring when the weather was nice everywhere. He was lucky his father had taught him italian, or this would have been much more difficult than it needed to be.   
McKenna walked back in the room with another priest, carrying a cauldron of coal with his hands covered in a damp cloth. The other man had dark black hair and a pointed face and was carrying a what looked like some kind of torture device, even if Langdon knew in his head it was just a metal object to be used for cauterizing his wound. Didn’t make it look less threatening. They set them both down pretty far away from the bed. The cauldron had heat waves coming out of it and he could feel the panic setting in.  
“Thank you, Signore Vincenzi” McKenna said, the other man nodded, disinterested, and left the room, leaving the door open.  
Once the man had left for good Langdon kept a steady gaze on the cauldron as McKenna stuck the torture-looking stick into it. He heard McKenna chuckle at how apprehensive he was.  
“The coals aren’t going to jump out of there, I can promise that.”  
“Still doesn’t look that great to me”  
“Well you’re about to be on the end of it, so I can understand your hesitance.” Langdon looked up at the priest with an indignant expression. That was when McKenna pulled out the metal rod, the end glowing red and yellow, the heat waves rolling off of it into the air.  
“Since you’re still sitting it will make this easier. Just hold your arm up above your head and for no reason pull it back down.” Langdon just nodded and held his arm above his head, holding it with the other arm to keep in in place, braced for the pain. At least his arm didn’t hurt near as bad as his side.  
“Ready?”  
“Sure”  
“Okay” and then he felt a searing pain down his side, worse than the initial wound, hell, worse than anything he’d personally ever felt. A long grunt escaped him and he was grinding his teeth to the bone as the pain went over the entire wound slowly, steadily. Sweat was dripping from his brow and nose and he couldn’t keep control of his face or of the noises he made. Everything felt on fire. Then it suddenly was gone. The pain was still there and his skin felt raw and burning, but the constant pressure of heat was gone. He breathed in deep, heavy breaths. His arms were still above his head and his eyes were still squinting in pain, tears trekking down his cheeks. He felt a cool towel across his forehead and melted into the touch. McKenna gently pulled down his arms after placing more clean bandages around his body, and laid him down on the bed. His breaths were still coming in deep and fast as he felt cool hands on his face before another damp rag was placed down on his forehead. He could hear McKenna saying something in Latin, a prayer probably, over him, but he could hardly make out the words with everything around him still swimming. The priests soothing voice lulled him into dizzying sleep with the last words a small command of  
“Sleep” before he lost consciousness.

When he awoke it wasn’t with a start, but slowly. It was a nice change to take in the haze of the morning with the sun’s light dousing the room in warmth. It made everything look softer. Langdon’s eyes blinked into focus when he noticed McKenna rearranging some pots and vials probably full of medicines on the other side of the wall. Langdon made to say something but chose to watch him under hooded eyes. He found it interesting to see how people acted when they thought no one was watching. He seemed freer almost, still holding a straight back and calculated movements, but there was a buoyancy to him. Maybe the pain was still getting to Langdon’s brain.  
A yawn escaped him and McKenna turned to him and smiled softly before turning back to the shelves.  
“How’re you feeling?” Langdon yawned again and sat up slowly, trying to be as tender as possible with his side, before he answered.  
“Not perfect, but better” His eyes were drifting over the priest’s backside before he caught himself with a start. Pain and hazy mornings apparently made him lose control over himself. He shook his head and leaned it against the wooden wall behind him and closed his eyes. Relaxing. It was strange. He hadn’t had time to relax in, well, a while. Not since he had been called upon to fight for the Church. But at this moment, he was abandoned by his vanguard, wounded, and under the care of a church he did not know. This was a well needed relaxation.  
He was startled out of his thoughts when a hand touched his forehead and cheeks. A blush crawling up unwillingly.  
“Uhm-”  
“The fever seems to have passed.” and McKenna’s hand moved away. Langdon moved to get up and was helped by the priest once again. He tried his best to not get annoyed, but  
“I can get up myself” his tone was indignant. And he had tried so hard. McKenna raised his eyebrow at that.  
“Says the man who was barely holding in a scream last night out of pain. Let me help you” Why did his voice have to be so infuriatingly even-toned. Langdon held in a rude look and a sigh and merely nodded his head in assent. He was still in pain, an ache that thrummed through his body was a constant these last few days.  
McKenna seemed closer than normal, or maybe that was just Langdon noticing how close the priest got to him for the first time. He propped up the pillows behind his head and backed away just as quick as he had gotten close. Langdon tried not to be disappointed.  
“I’m going to be gone for most of the day. So, Signore Strauss will be bringing you food and the pain medicine I gave you before.” He walked to the door and turned to add on  
“And please, don’t exert yourself too much” with a wry, almost fond smile before heading out the door.


	3. Superbias est maxime mortiferum peccatum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Langdon glanced around the room, bored out of his mind. That disgusting, oily feeling of inactivity was settling over his skin and stuck to the nape of his neck, the crooks of his arms and settled into the cavity if his mouth. When was that other priest going to come in?

Langdon waited in bed for a while, attempting to sleep and it never coming. He sighed pathetically out into the open air, trying to stir it a bit. If he was going to lay in bed all day, he’d at least prefer a book, or anything to keep him occupied. There was a reason he’d become the strategic advisor they all looked toward in battles. His mind was always at work, whether it was debating ideas with his mentor, reading books on history and ancient symbolism, or working on something with his hands. Langdon glanced around the room, bored out of his mind. That disgusting, oily feeling of inactivity was settling over his skin and stuck to the nape of his neck, the crooks of his arms and settled into the cavity if his mouth. When was that other priest going to come in?  
Langdon tried to sit up fully in a sitting position, hoping to alleviate the gross feeling. He propped the pillow up and looked around the room again, focusing on the small simple wooden cross above the doorway after playing a guessing game with himself of what was in the apothecary wall. He always wondered why the cross shape was the way it was. He remembered searching for months once, in his childhood, trying to find meaning in it’s shape. He never found anything more than that Francis of Assisi, blessed by the Pope, said it was so. And so it was. Langdon never quite liked that.  
The door opened with a slam and sent Langdon out of his head and his focus was on the man who’d done it with a bewildered look. His back to the door, carrying multiple things in his hands, and he let out a small string of curses in a language he didn’t understand before turning to face Langdon with an indignant face.  
“Got your damn food” and the bowl was slammed not so gracefully down on the chair, most of it spilling over the edges. The loaves of bread and chicken on a plate were dumped unceremoniously into his lap. The man swayed a little bit before grabbing onto the doors edge saying “You’re welcome!” with a sarcastic lilt and going out the door, not even bothering to close it. An older man in plain brown robes walked past with an expression that told Langdon this wasn’t the first time the man had showed up the church drunk, before peering into the room. A kind smile graced his wrinkled face.  
“Don’t mind him. He’s a long time,” The man seemed to be choosing his words carefully “...acquaintance of the church. I let him do simple chores from time to time for a few coins.”   
“He seems a bit...drunk for this early in the day” Langdon’s voice was rougher than he thought. He hadn’t noticed it when McKenna was here. Though, that was probably because he had been so tired. The old man huffed a laugh, before wryly smiling in the direction the drunken man had gone.  
“As I said, a long time acquaintance of the church. We’ve been trying to break him of that habit for so long. But, when you serve wine at the holy communion, it’s a little difficult to tell people not to drink in excess.” the older man chuckled slightly before walking slightly into the room, grabbing the door handle. Right before he closed it he turned to Langdon once more  
“Signore McKenna has been looking after you, no?” Langdon nodded, a little confused at the question. A knowing looked passed over his face.  
“Good. He’s been needing someone to fawn over for a while now” and then he closed the door behind him. Langdon blinked at the door.  
“Well, okay?” he mumbled under his breath. The people in this church were interesting at best. At least it provided a few seconds of distraction. He rearranged the food on his plate, before reaching for the porridge. He was a little worried to eat it, seeing as how a drunk man had apparently been carrying it to him, but, some of it was still in there and damn him if he was going to let any food go to waste. He’d seen it rot in the streets and in his home. His family picked off the molded parts of bread before eating it, eggs and milk gone in a day so the stench wouldn’t fill the house. Hunger was the norm before he’d been taken under the wing of his former mentor Sir Leigh. He’d seen him carelessly leave it out claiming to not be hungry, like he had never felt a pang of hunger his whole life, like there weren’t people who would kill for a bite to eat. Langdon reached for the half empty bowl on the chair. Food was never to be wasted. There wasn’t any telling when you’d next have it. So, Langdon scraped what he could of the porridge off the chair and into the bowl.   
When he’d finished his food, licking the plate clean after being sure his proprietary couldn’t be compromised by anyone seeing him do it, he was at a loss of what to do. He really didn’t want to sleep, and he couldn’t technically do anything else.  
Well, he could try and walk around, to practice his strength, he reasoned.  
Langdon set his bowl and plate down on the chair and moved his legs carefully off to the side of the bed, and wiggled his toes against the stone ground. He pressed them down to see if they could withstand the pressure. He flexed his calves before he took a big breath and stood up as fast as he could without irritating his side. He his body swung forwards and backwards for a bit before he fell back on the bed. His side was twinging, but nothing major. Nothing like the few days before. Langdon huffed, determined and sat up again, bracing this time and slowly standing up. He swayed a few times before grabbing the edge of the chair, his legs wobbling in place. He breathed in and out slowly to keep his frustration at bay. Damn his weak body. He moved a hand to the wall to help steady himself and slided a leg towards the wall. He put weight on it again and it shook less.  
“Progress” he murmured to himself before moving his other leg in the same direction until he was nearly up against the wall, having pushed the stained chair out of the way. He closed his eyes and let go of the wall. When he didn’t fall his eyes blinked open and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and looked down at his legs to make sure they were still there. There they were, slightly shaky but firm. He kept his arms and fingers stretched out as he slowly turned. He picked up a foot and moved it away from the wall. He sat for a while after moving it, to be sure it was steady under him and pumped his fists when it was before walking carefully towards the center of the room. The door opened again, and a priest jumped back, startled by Langdon. The knight gave a slight wave and an apologetic smile to the man, who merely blinked at him.  
“They said you were bedridden?” He asked, the statement coming out as more of a question than, well, a statement. Langdon nodded his head to the side.  
“Well I was…” his answer fading off at the end, not quite knowing how to explain to the random man at the door without giving himself up for ignoring Signore McKenna’s instructions. The priest gave him a strange look before walking to Langdon with books in his hands. The knight’s eyes brightened at that.  
“Signore Strauss said you might get bored in bed and to bring you these.” The books were thrust into his hands. Langdon thanked him earnestly. The priest pondered for a second before saying, “Well, if you’re feeling better, would it be too much to ask for your help around the church?” Langdon looked at the books in his hands at that. He wouldn’t say he was well enough to do any major physical help around, but, he looked back up at the priest who was regarding him carefully, they had been a major help in his recovery. Saying no was practically an infraction against his own chivalry anyways, but especially after all Patri-the church had done for him.  
“Sure” he said with a smile, knowing he was probably going to regret this. He tried to walk normally to set the books on his bed, but could feel how unsteady his legs were underneath him. He brushed it aside and focused on putting one foot in front of the other and followed the young priest out the door. The hallway was small and the ceiling seemed lower. Candles sat on small sconces on the walls and the floors were pretty dank and cold. It hit him. He wasn’t wearing pants or shoes.  
“Um… ” He stopped, slowly walking backwards toward to door to his room again. “I don’t….um….have any pants on” He continued awkwardly. The priest looked back to him and scrutinized him for a second.  
“Yeah, I guess you aren’t. Let me go get you some clothes while you wait back in the room.” he said seemingly unfazed by the knights undressed situation. Langdon closed his eyes against the embarrassment before walking back into the room. He only waited a moment before the priest came back holding out what looked like a monk’s robe and some pointed brown shoes. His blue eyes were apologetic.  
“This is all we have right now, but it should work fine!” He seemed a little too enthusiastic about Langdon’s help and he wondered if he should regret accepting the man’s offer.  
After dressing, he followed the man down twisting hallways he was certain he would forget to the entrance of a small chapel. The pews were wooden, a few people sat praying, and the stain glass on the walls were scarce, the biggest one behind the pulpit and depicted a yellow sunrise behind the 3 crosses, but the room felt full of reverence and warmth. It was nothing like the cold empty rooms in his local church back in France, where fear and desperation clung to the walls and the stained glass made the sun’s light harsh with it’s blue tint. There was a kind of holiness in the closeness of everything. They walked outside and the sun’s light made Langdon wince and bring up his hand to cover his eyes. He really hadn’t been outside in a while. There were little dirt paths leading to the church and the priest led them down a road towards a large tree.  
“My name’s Chartrand, by the way! I don’t remember if I told you or not.” Chartrand shrugged apologetically and gave him an expectant look.  
“Langdon! Sorry I just assumed you knew. And what exactly am I helping you with?” He quickly changed the subject. One would think his social skills wouldn’t deteriorate this far after only being out of it for a little over a week, but they’d be wrong. Chartrand brushed off Langdon’s awkwardness and continued on.   
“Oh I’m not sure, Signore Strauss said he needed all the help he could get in preparation for communion tomorrow morning.” Langdon prayed that he wouldn’t be asked to do any heavy lifting. Or really much of anything. His prayers went unanswered as when they arrived at the tree where Signore Strauss gave him a raised eyebrow and told him he was to help the other, more burly men, with carrying in the heavy tables and extra pews. He’d almost asked if he could join in with Chartrand and the other more slight men in cooking, but his pride won out and he walked over to the back of the church with everyone else.   
Langdon stood awkwardly to the side and waited for instructions of what to do while the other men (did they even work for the church?) were talking about local affairs he didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand. The smallest of the group surprisingly started doling out activities with an evil glint in his eyes. If Langdon were in better shape, he wouldn’t mind a challenge, but at this particular time he wasn’t up for one. The small man turned to him 3rd.  
“So since you’re the new guy, how about we give you the table to move” He was almost snarling at Langdon. His face must’ve shown his absolute dread when he turned to the most ornate and probably heaviest table present because the man smirked at him, while the other men around him seemed pretty indifferent, like this was the norm for them. If he tried to get out of it now, he’d look like some heathen that gave into sloth easily, which was not the case for Langdon. So he straightened up his back as much as he could muster and puffed out his chest a little. His side gave a terrible hiss at that, but he ignored it. It was like a fly, you could only swat it so much until it went away or got what it wanted.  
“Where do you need it?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound prideful as he thought.  
“At the front of the room. Are you sure you’re Catholic?” The man mocked. That Langdon took offense to, but he refused to let it get the best of him. Mostly. He rolled his eyes and moved to the table, strategizing a way to move it while using the least amount of effort possible. He pushed with his but, using his legs as the main force and it budged a little. Progress was progress. One of the bigger men near him took pity and dropped him a hint.  
“You know if you pick it up, it’s easier to carry” Langdon tried his hardest to not look indignant and thanked the man before he took the advice. He hoped this wouldn’t cause any lasting damage. His legs were already shaking and his balance was starting to make a turn for the worst. He’d pushed past more, though, He was fine. He got underneath the table and made a compromise with himself to merely pick it up and push it to the door. With the weight fully over him, he could see why the small man gave him this task as the newbie. His legs were legitimately shaking now and his side was burning, like the iron was pressed up against it again. He pushed and it moved farther than it had. Much better, but the relief was short lived as he pushed it closer and closer to the door. Everyone around him had finished and were off asking Strauss for other tasks to do. He could feel his sweat pouring from his brow and his nose and the clamminess was setting in and his skin was freezing off and the world was starting to spin, but he refused to stop moving. It was a simple task and he should be able to get it done. His legs could hardly move off the ground, but the table was in the doorway and he was so close to being done. He almost didn’t notice his arms and legs give and him falling to the ground with the table on top of him. His eyes were still open, but they were glazed over and he could feel a wetness on his shoulder and his side, but it was warm so he let it be. His breathing was the only thing he was able to focus on. In and out. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. It felt like ours before he felt someone pull his legs and faced him face up. He could make out voices but hardly anything made sense.  
“I didn’t know he was injured!”  
“You’re a fucking dick Richter.” or it was something along those lines. Langdon was having trouble telling up from down, so he doubted he could make out the words correctly. He could feel himself being lifted and more alarmed voices called out, but Langdon gave up on picking them out and let himself enjoy the blissful cotton space that had taken over his head. The world came into focus when he was back in his room and there were people he didn’t know touching his shoulder and prodding it until he screamed out.. When they pulled back their hands they were red and slick with blood. His blood. He was bleeding? Langdon’s head was spinning again, trying to fall back into the white noise. It wasn’t working and the room spinning made him nauseous and he couldn’t hold in the little food he’d been given that day. He heard noises of dissent and disgust around him but his head was fuzzy and his mouth tasted like vomit and bile. He slumped forward and gave himself over to the static in his head.


End file.
